


Control

by Ferroxus



Category: Paladins: Champions Of The Realm (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27445057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferroxus/pseuds/Ferroxus
Summary: Corvus has made a lot of enemies on his way, and one of them pays him a visit, — as she, apart from revenge, now has an additional reason to kill him.
Kudos: 11





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this work to Corvus' abyssal acolyte skin, it's just the best fghidfhgkdfh

Some fear greatness. Corvus embraced it.

The dagger that drained the energy directly from the Abyss to heal wounds and fractures, inflicting terrible pain in process; that allowed him to teleport in a blink of an eye; that was able to open small breaches into the Abyss to weaken enemies, to drain vitality from them. It was a necessary sacrifice. A small price to pay for the power Abyss gave in return. Corvus knew firsthand that Abyss was always hungry, and he did everything to protect himself.

He was ready to bear the burden and pay the price.

Or he thought he was ready.

The nightmares were the first to come. They showed Corvus an endless dark purple horizon with enormous black silhouettes against it. Some of them looked like horned humanoids, while some resembled eldritch underwater monsters that common sailors were so afraid of.

These dreams never brought any rest, so probably because of that Corvus didn’t pay the proper attention to another ominous sign: his own physical weakness. The headache that struck every time if he had been using the power of the dagger for a long time. It was always fleeting and never lasted longer than for a few minutes, so Corvus didn’t think much of it: no time to, while the Realm was at war.

He didn’t think much of it until the very encounter with the damned moon goddess who had suddenly remembered her people below.

The stab of pain was so sharp that Corvus barely managed to stay on his feet, and the sudden blood bursting from his nose flooded his lips and chin before he had time to wipe it with his palm in shock and irritation. In this moment of weakness he found himself exposed to the goddess’ arrows, and the wounds did not have time to heal to this day: the moonlight seemed to turn them fresh again every time.

And finally, on the day the Abyssal Lord broke free, something changed in Corvus’ appearance. A lock of hair turned white, the eyes acquired the distinct reddish hue, the nails began to darken, and the otherworldly purple markings under the skin on his cheekbones and neck appeared more and more clearly with each passing day. Raising the collar of his coat almost to his eyes, Corvus came to the obvious conclusion: the dagger needed a serious rework.

His personal study in the Magistrate’s Archives had always been kept in perfect order. There were countless books resting on the shelves; anyone but the owner could spend weeks to find information there. The crystals obtained in raids and confiscated from civilians were stored in the protected display cases, and their gleam in the candlelight seemed completely unearthy.

But then everything changed drastically. More lost territories, crossed out in red on the map. More dossiers on the priority Resistance targets chaotically scattered on the desk. More dark dried stains of coffee. More feverish and illegible handwriting in the journal.

Passing by the statue of Karne, Corvus slowed down and looked up. The leader of the Magistrate gazed sternly into the distance, his stone eyebrows drawn together. The last rays of setting sun glinted in the red crystals that adorned his shoulders, chest and the tip of his staff.

“I’ve got this, father. I have everything under control. Someday you’ll understand it and—”

Corvus paused and pursed his lips.

_And you’ll be proud of me. I’ve given you little reason to. But I’ll redeem myself._

His heavy footsteps echoed through the deserted archives. Corvus walked across the open area at the edge of the cliff, that offered a magnificent view, and proceeded to his door. Among all those books, there definitely was the information on how to enforce the protection from the influence of the dagger.

Reaching out to the door, Corvus suddenly froze.

Somehow he sensed the presence of not just a stranger — something _wrong_ nearby, that seemed to contradict his whole being and wasn’t supposed to be here. Having checked if his pistol was loaded, he pushed open the door.

The room was quiet and empty. The bookshelves lined along the walls like silent watchers. The maw of the fireplace was black with burned-out wood. A few specks of dust were floating in the air.

The rustling of heavy wings right behind Corvus’ back made him turn around instantly and raise his weapon; he did it just in time to see the source of that _wrong_ energy land on the stone platform. The woman gently touched the ground with her feet and spread her large golden wings. The tip of her sword raised, aimed at Corvus’ chest.

Corvus immediately recognized her even transformed. The former resident of the village of Seris. The former sister of the one who had been swallowed up by the Abyss and turned into the Oracle. And the living reminder of one of his most terrible mistakes.

“You?” Corvus asked, still holding his pistol on her. “Why are you here? For revenge?”

“How did you survive?” Furia asked slowly and demandingly.

There was no need in clarification: she could be interested in his mysterious salvation in only one, specific disaster.

“I don’t know,” Corvus answered abruptly. “You barged into my personal study just to ask this?”

“Thousands died that day, mortal. The abyssal explosion devoured the whole village. Why did it spare you?”

Corvus said nothing. His fingers clenched on the hilt of the dagger; a purple spark ran across the blade.

She knows, Corvus suddenly realized. She knows but she wants to hear it from him. Wants him to confess that he has defiled himself with the Abyss willingly.

“What have you become!” There was deep contempt in Furia’s voice. “Another puppet of the Abyss, just as the countless fools before you. But today is your lucky day, mortal. I am here to cleanse you from the corruption with my sword and flame!”

The moon appeared in the star-strewn sky; the wounded shoulder began to ache as usual.

“Leave this place while you can,” Corvus ordered firmly. “Or I’ll have to force you.”

Furia’s golden eyes narrowed in anger.

“You want to fight?” Her wrath inflamed the runes on her sword. “Ready to find out if it was worth to betray everything for the illusion of power?”

“I did not betray anyone!”

“Another abyssal abomination falls this day!” Furia thundered, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Corvus dodged a beam of scorching light that had rushed towards him; the beam swept past and disappeared in the wall, leaving a deep smoking crack on its travel path. Furia soared into the air, engulfed in sacred flames.

She was more dangerous in the open, but Corvus was more mobile. Her attacks had longer range, but he had better place awareness. Her gunblade was more accurate, but his automatic pistol dealt more damage. The gunshots, the flapping of wings, the sound of shattering display cases trembled in the air.

Had it not been for Corvus’ old wounds, for his exhaustion and the power-leeching dagger, the outcome of the battle would have been different.

The blade pierced his abdomen viciously — right above the belt with the golden clasp inlaid with a red crystal, — and came out of his back. The fabric of his coat became blood-soaked almost instantly; the runes blazed vengefully, and Corvus panted and watched in a daze as they were turning crimson.

“No,” he breathed in disbelief, as if denying the reality could heal the fatal wound. “No, not like this—“

“Be purified!”

Furia’s voice was deafening. Everything went dark before his eyes. Corvus gripped the hilt of the sword, his palms slippery with sweat, trying to stay on his feet. A leather thong under his fingers loosened, and the locket fell off Furia’s sword with a clang and opened.

Both adversaries involuntarily glanced at the pictures of the two girls, the former sisters, in its halves.

“You think— You think I wanted all of that to happen?” Corvus’ fingers were inexorably slipping off the sword, his grip loosening. Blood was spattering from his wound as he spoke, and dripping onto the floor between his feet. “All that happened to your sister?”

Furia slowly shifted her gaze to him. Her eyes were full of infinite grief, and when she spoke, there was no steel in her voice, — only the quavering whisper of a girl who had lost someone dear to her.

“Don’t you dare talk to me about my sister.”

She pulled out her sword angrily, and Corvus collapsed — first on his knees, then, slowly and clumsily, on his back. His left hand jerked towards the dagger but Furia kicked the weapon out of his fingers, throwing it several meters away.

“Don’t even think about it, abomination!”

She grabbed the locket, slammed it shut and clenched it in her fist.

Her footsteps faded into the night that had enveloped the courtyard.

Corvus blinked, feeling his strength abandoning his body along with his blood. Something had to be done, right now, something to prevent the inexorably approaching oblivion, but it was too late for him.

With his fading sight, he made out the foot of the statue of Karne right next to him.

_Have I failed again? Say something, father._

The statue moved and leaned forward. Eyes full of raw and cold disappointment stared at Corvus.

“Yes, you have failed again. You are weak.”

The statue’s voice sounded like the real Karne, but it still had some kind of extraneous echo, — as if someone was talking simultaneously with father, but a little quieter. And this ‘someone’ sounded vaguely familiar.

_But my struggle hardened me. I was so close. I cannot be defeated so easily. It should not have ended like this._

Those were but thoughts racing through Corvus’ mind, but the statue was responding to them out loud.

“Do you think you can still save the Realm?”

_Wha— Yes. Yes, I still have my people. I have control over the unlimited power of the Abyss._

“Do you think you can still be useful for us?”

Corvus closed his eyes; but even through his eyelids, he was able to see his father’s gloomy, displeased face before him.

_Yes. I can still fight._

“Very good,” the statue chuckled in the Oracle’s voice. “I’ll give you one more chance.”

The dagger lying almost at the very edge of a cliff began to move; the blade blazed up with abyssal energy, and the dagger rolled across the floor right into Corvus’ palm. His fingers gripped the hilt frantically. His eyes flew open and glowed bright purple.

A massive explosion shook the area, destroying the archives to the ground. The centuries-old walls collapsed like a house of cards, burying the fruits of many years of hard work. The shockwave awakened people that were miles away from here; the cloud of the construction dust obscured the moon.

When the silence finally enveloped the ruins of the archives, something moved beneath the rubble of the statue of Karne. A black-clawed hand got the boulders out of the way with no effort, and the creature that had once been the son of the Magistrate leader, emerged from the debris. The blade of the dagger reflected his glowing purple eyes without pupils, bright purple markings on the pale face and the crooked, triumphant grin on thin lips. The hair, now completely white, fell over his forehead.

The broken-off head of the statue of Karne rolled to his feet; in the moonlight, its colorless eyes now seemed to be full of horror.

“They wanted an abyssal abomination? They’ll get it. Right, **“Corvus”**?” the dagger sneered in the Oracle’s voice.

_Right._


End file.
